


Running the Ratlines

by Sangerin



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8330635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangerin/pseuds/Sangerin
Summary: The Independents were beaten. The Alliance had won.





	

i.  
The Alliance ships were bearing down on his position, and Zoe was screaming at him to take cover, but Mal couldn’t move. He stared out at the demonstration of their awesome power; laser weapons slicing through Serenity Valley, compression weapons flattening anything left standing.

'Sarge, get the hell out of there,' screamed Zoe.

Mal backed away, watching the ships as they came. They kept on coming, coming, leaving nothing above ground. Finally, finally, he turned his back. And ran.

Zoe was hauling a wounded member of the squad into the tunnels. The tunnels had provided some shelter during the fight: now they just hoped that they could hide long enough for the Alliance ships to lose interest, or be reassigned elsewhere.

Mal ransacked any piles of stores they passed, searching for food and medical supplies. He ended up with a few MREs, and two or three bandages. Not enough.

Zoe was tiring, but she wasn't convinced that they were deep enough into the tunnel system yet to escape the Alliance weapons. Mal took the wounded squad member over his shoulder. They walked instead of ran – there were too many roots and rocks in the tunnel floor: running would just lead to tripping and falling, and there were enough walking wounded as it was.

They set up camp deep within the tunnel system. Other survivors found them, wandering in by ones and twos, bringing with them whatever they'd been able to scrounge, and carrying their own wounds both physical and psychological.

It was two weeks before the Alliance ships were far enough away for one struggling, end-of-its-tether Independent ship to get through and pick up the survivors. They changed ships twice before being dropped off on an outer rim planet. The Independents were beaten. The Alliance had won. They'd gotten away from Serenity Valley by the skin of their teeth, and now they had to make their own lives and their own way in the world. 

 

ii.

'After the defeat of the rebels, there was a pattern of migration away from the inner rim planets. In most cases, of course, they would have been completely safe: there was no policy of retribution towards the rebels, so long as they accepted Unification and adapted themselves to the new reality.

There were some rebels who were on watch lists; others against whom arrest warrants had been issued. Many of them ran the ratlines – leaving the inner rim on false identification papers on rebel-friendly ships.'

The lecturer shifted his weight, placing one had on either side of the podium, and looking out at his class sternly.

'The Alliance does not just forgive and forget these people. They may have run the ratlines to the outer planets, but we will track them down. More specifically, you, the new members of the Operations section, will track them down and bring them to justice.'

iii.

At the space dock, he kept looking over his shoulder. Surely they would know. It was their job to patrol the ratlines, but the consequence was that every student knew how to go about finding them. They must have known. They should never let him get off planet. 

He had not simply decided that he could not continue in this life, but that he could not continue in this society. It might look to be shiny on the outside, but he'd seen some of the depths to which the Alliance stooped; he knew it went deeper, but wanted none of the details. It went so deep than anyone who had scratched the surface, seen beneath the façade, should not be allowed to escape.

But he went to the docks anyway. With his own ID from before he'd joined the Program – saved against this day – and some forged papers from a contact, he made it in among the ships. He had a particular destination in mind; another contact from a previous life, a monastery that would shelter him.

But he needed to get there. He needed to get away from the inner rim, run the ratline like the deserter that he was. He needed to end this life, once and for all. Pay penance for his actions, retire from the world for a spell. Come to terms with who he was, and discover who he could be.

He couldn't start that process until he ran. If he died in the attempt, it would be just. If he survived, and had the chance to change, it would be merciful. Somewhere deep within him, he believed in both.


End file.
